


The Play's The Thing

by Semoka



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Fake Betrayal, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, and getting them out of a sticky situation, geralt gets a little flirty and we stan, listen i just wanted to write jaskier using his brain, what more do you want from me, why isnt that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semoka/pseuds/Semoka
Summary: Geralt takes a step forward, tense. “You did well. With the stew. And the...acting.”Jaskier blinks. “Not that good, I hope. You do know I’d never actually betray you, right, Geralt?”The witcher raises an eyebrow. “Brothers have betrayed brothers for less than their lives.”Jaskier, at his core, is a performer.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 49
Kudos: 791
Collections: Best Geralt





	The Play's The Thing

The mercenaries attack their camp while they sleep.

By the time Jaskier is woken up, Geralt is already being held down on the ground by at least four men. He’s putting up a good fight, but Jaskier can tell the witcher is only so strong. The men were human, but they were well trained. 

He has three options. Option one, get on his feet and try to fight back against the mercenaries. There were six men standing around the four holding Geralt down and Jaskier’s always been more of a lover than a fighter, so that was out. Option two, pretend he was still asleep and let Geralt get taken away like a coward. He is many things, but he refuses to be a coward. That leaves option three…

“Oh, thank the gods.” Jaskier breathes out, standing up on shaky legs. All heads snap towards him, including Geralt’s. If he wasn’t committing to this new role, he’d be offended that they seemed to have forgotten about him. 

“Who the fuck are you?” One of the mercenaries asks. He’s the only one not wearing a face mask. Most likely the leader. 

“I-I’m a bard. Dandelion,” He stutters. Geralt lets out a low growl and Jaskier flinches overdramatically. “The witcher’s had me trapped with him for so long. I knew if I waited long enough someone would rescue me! You, kind sirs, are _gifts_ from _destiny_.” He knows he’s playing it up, but he needs this to work. He glances towards Geralt and sees the hurt confusion there and hopes they live long enough for him to explain.

“Y’here that, boys? We’re gifts from destiny!” The leader laughs. “Fuck off, bard. We’re taking him for the coin.” The leader shoos him _like a fly the little-_ and gestures for the now bound Geralt to be pulled to his feet. 

“He’s seen your face, sir.” One of the men pipes up. “We should kill him.” 

“Oh, no, no! You don’t have to do that!” Jaskier quickly interjects. “I could- I could come with you! I’m known for many songs! Drinking songs, love ballads, even the occasional jig, if I’m in the right mood for it. I could be your entertainment, at least until the next town?” 

The leader leans his head back and forth, considering it. He turns towards the man who spoke, who shrugs. Jaskier notes how he doesn’t look to anyone else. Most likely the second in command. Good to know for later. 

“Alright...Dandelion, did you say your name was?” The leader pauses so Jaskier nods in answer. “We’ll give you a chance to earn your life. Morning is hours off yet. You’ll play while we eat. If we enjoy it, a few of my boys will escort you to the next town.” The leader raises an eyebrow. “Agreed?” 

“Anyone here know Fishmonger’s Daughter?” He asks in lieu of a response. The men cheer. 

***

Within the hour, the mercenaries have taken over their camp with their own bedrolls and firmly secured Geralt to a tree. The witcher won’t look at him, no matter how many times Jaskiertries to sneakily catch his eye. Even Roach, ever so loyal, turns her head away when he pauses to slip her a carrot. 

There’s a stew cooking over the fire and ale being passed around. With Jaskier’s music, it’s a proper celebration of a job well done. The bard wants to snap and swing his lute at the nearest head. _Stick to the plan, Jaskier…_

“Oi, Dandelion! You know anything about these?” Jaskier looks over to see the second-in-command next to the fire, holding up one of Geralt’s potions. He can't believe his luck. _Fuck the plan, this one is better._

“Y-yes, sir!” He fumbles the lute onto his back, playing up the helpless bard once again. “The witcher had me gather the ingredients for some.” He stands awkwardly above them until the second gestures for him to sit. “The one in your hand is a night vision potion called Cat.” He digs through the bag for a second, slipping a small vial inside his sleeve under the cover of the worn leather. He pulls out another harmless one. “This one is for your reflexes, he called it Blizzard.” 

“Interesting…” The second mutters, listening intently. “Don’t suppose a human would be able to take them, do you?” 

“I wouldn’t know.” He answers, fully knowing Witcher’s potions would kill a full-grown man. Without thinking, he leans a hand on the pot to look closer. The hot metal quickly burns his skin through his sleeve and he lets out a sharp yelp of pain. 

“Ryvel! What are you doing to the poor bard over there?!” The leader calls out with a laugh.

“Fuck off, he burned ‘imself!” The second - Ryvel - calls back with a grin. He shakes his head as he tugs Jaskier’s hand closer. “Let me see where it hurts.” 

Jaskier freezes at the touch but relaxes when nothing follows beside gentle prodding at the new burn. Ryvel digs through his own pack for a second before coming up with salve and a roll of bandages. They’re both silent as he coats the burn then wraps it with the care of someone who’s done it a thousand times before. 

When it’s done, Jaskier flexes his hand. “Thank you.” He whispers. “I didn’t expect…” He trails off, not knowing how to say it without offending the mercenary.

“What happened to us _kind sirs_ being a gift from destiny?” Ryvel teases. Jaskier forces a smile.

“I should go back to playing.” He excuses before standing. “Any requests?” 

“Something fun,” is all Ryvel replies. 

Jaskier crosses back to where he stood to play earlier. Ryvel’s kindness almost made him feel bad for the deadly amount of White Gull he poured into the stew while burning his arm. Though judging by the fact that every man is without a mask and calling each other by name, they weren’t planning on letting Jaskier go anyway. 

He sneaks another glance at Geralt who still refused to look at anything but the ground. _Soon, love. You’ll see what’s going on._

***

Dinner is served once the meat is declared cooked through. No one offers him any and Jaskier doesn’t ask. He plays while they eat and doesn’t think he’s ever felt more anxious in his life. He watches every single mercenary as they chew and swallow and take bite after bite. He keeps waiting for someone to say something about the taste or spit it out or call attention to it.

And then the first man drops, suddenly and without warning. Jaskier starts inching towards Geralt. He only has moments before the mercenaries realize their friend has been felled by more than just ale. 

The second man drops. Jaskier picks up the pace. Geralt is finally, _finally,_ looking up. He’s got this confused expression and his head is tilted to the side and oh, that would be _so_ cute in a different situation. 

The third man drops. All hell breaks loose. Jaskier uses the time they take to sluggishly grab their weapons to throw his lute to the side - _Daddy’s sorry, baby, but needs must._ \- and pull the dagger from his boot. He cuts Geralt free as the fourth and fifth man drop in quick succession.

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters, before throwing himself at the leader. With the drugs in his system, the man goes down easily. It’s actually almost laughable how effortless it is to simply push the next three mercenaries to the ground and wait for them to die. 

Ryvel, now the last of his men, falls to his knees before Geralt can even touch him. His eyes are firmly locked onto Jaskier, mouth open in shock. “You manipulative fucking jester…” He hisses out. His last words before he too meets the ground.

After hours of talk and music, it’s eerie to be met with only silence. 

Geralt, with no more mercenaries to take care of, settles on Jaskier. He opens his mouth to say something only to be cut off by the bard launching into nervous ramblings. 

“Listen, Geralt, I know what I did wasn’t safe or smart or anything else you’re going to say but what else was I supposed to do? Let you get taken by those brutes?” 

“Jaskier.” 

“And that wasn’t even my original plan, poisoning them. That was just a lucky mix of circumstances that I got into your potion bag - you should really label those, by the way. We’re lucky I just so happened to pay attention to colors and bottles last time you organized this mess. And another thin-”

“I was going to say thank you.”

The bard stops. “I’m sorry?”

Geralt takes a step forward, tense. “You did well. With the stew. And the...acting.” 

Jaskier blinks. “Not that good, I hope. You do know I’d never actually betray you, right, Geralt?” 

The witcher raises an eyebrow. “Brothers have betrayed brothers for less than their lives.” 

“For gods sake, Geralt, I didn’t even tell them my name! What part of that made you think I trusted them? Do you really think so low of me that-” Jaskier cuts himself off. He’s smarter than that. He knows it’s not him that the witcher thinks low of. 

The bard takes a step forward and Geralt lets him. “I could have stayed at Oxenfurt, you know. As a professor. They all loved my classes. I was the hot, young, new teacher.” 

“Did you accept favors in exchange for good grades, _Professor_?” Geralt asks, voice low. Inwardly, Jaskier groans. 

“As sexy as that was, you’re not seducing me out of talking about this, Geralt.” 

“It was worth a shot.” 

“No, it wasn’t.”

“It’s worked before.” 

“ _Geralt._ ” Jaskier admonishes and slaps him on the chest. “Listen to me, you brute. My point is that I could have had the easiest, boring-est, lavish-est life I wanted. Instead, I chose _you_ . And I will _continue_ to choose you over everything else in this world, including myself. Because you’ll do the same for me.” He says this with such certainty, as if Geralt had never done a single selfish thing in his life.

Geralt swallows, not quite meeting Jaskier’s eyes, and nods. “I would. Do the same, that is.” 

The bard smiles, bright and wide, like Geralt just told him that he was personally gifting him the stars. The witcher smiles back, small and quiet, but it means all the same. 

“Now that that’s settled,” Jaskier breaks the silence with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Let’s find out who hired these men and kill them, hmm?”

**Author's Note:**

> And they all lived happily ever after with no one ever trying to kill them again because i said so ~~that's a lie i have a continuation planned where they go after the person who hired the mercenaries but that's for another time~~
> 
> If you liked this, check me out on Tumblr [geralthastwohands](www.geralthastwohands.tumblr.com)
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!!


End file.
